Brayandli was about to speak again but he realised Taowren’s attention had been firmly pulled towards the fight in front of them. Tomar parried a strike from Scout and then swung his at the older man, who deftly blocked it, again with his left hand.
“I’ve never seen anyone use a blade with their left hand before,” blurted Taowren. The two figures blurred as they continued to exchange blows. “Is he very left-handed then? Can he not use it in his right?”
“You haven’t noticed?” Willow glanced up from the rack and drifted towards the pair with a wry smile. “Look at Scout’s right wrist.”
Taowren did just that and his face went blank; no wonder Scout used a weapon in his left hand, because he had no right! The freckled youth’s face swivelled to look at Willow with wide eyes, his mouth gaping.
“I hadn’t noticed, no!” Taowren blurted, “What happened to his hand?”
“There was an incident with his spirit-bond, Inccei. She… Attacked him when they were still forming their pact.” Brayandli murmured. “She ate it.”
“Inccei has a difficult temperament,” Willow added, raising an eyebrow at Brayandli.
“Their bond has not always been steady.” Brayandli spoke again, voice tranquil as water. His gaze was still on the chain around Taowren’s ankle.
Willow made a thoughtful noise while side-eyeing her cousin. “Scout did teach Brayandli how to use a sword in his left hand though, didn’t he, Bray?”
“Mm.” Brayandli echoed Willow’s hum, but said no more.
“Perhaps you should spar with Taown left-handed.” She nudged Brayandli gently with her elbow, smirking. “It might be more of a challenge for you both.”
“I’m afraid if Brandy’s even half as good in his left hand as he is with his right, I’ll still be no match for him,” Taowren said with a shake of his head. Please no more sparring. Please please please please please.
“I’m sure you’ll fare much better when you’re not so hungover.” Willow’s reply was light, but Taowren still visibly flinched. He whipped his head around to look at Brayandli with wide eyes.
“…The incense was Willow’s.” Brayandli returned Taowren’s look with a guilty flush on his cheeks. “I-I haven’t mentioned yesterday to anyone else.” Beside him, Willow chuckled.
These two are pretty close, huh? Taowren continued to look at Brayandli, who glanced at him once more before staring at the floor through his long eyelashes. His expression was perhaps a little anxious, but stoic as the Okan heir was, it was difficult to assess. The strained silence was punctuated by a flurry of wooden blows followed by a familiar sounding groan as Tomar’s sword was knocked out of his hands, and all eyes turned to the sound.
“That’s enough for one session,” Scout said, bowing to Tomar, “You have improved since the last Summit.”
“I should hope so, that was three years ago!” Tomar replied without rancour. His usual very neat bun had come loose with all the jostling and hung free about his shoulders; with steady hands he re-tied it and glanced at the trio observing. “You finished too, Taown?”
Taowren nodded, rubbing a sore spot on his arm.
“I think I have one unbruised patch of skin left on my body, but let’s save that for next time. I’m starving. Lunch?”
“Sure.” Tomar nodded in assent.
“Willow? Brandy? You want to join us?” Taowren asked with a winning smile.
Willow glanced at Brayandli, but the tall boy stared at all three of them for a beat, then very slowly shook his head. Taowren’s smile wilted a little before the elegant young man muttered his reasoning, “There are too many people in the dining hall this time of day…” Brayandli’s eyes ghosted the shorter boy’s face before falling back to the floor. “I will dine in my chambers.”
“Brayandli isn’t good with crowds.” Willow explained, and then stepped fluidly between Tomar and Taowren with her arms behind her back. “I’ll join you both, though. See you later, Bray!”
“See you.” Brayandli murmured back, his eyes going distant as he looked past the three youths to the entrance of the training grounds. “…Yan is coming this way.”
Mentally, Taowren made an urgh sound, but Willow’s legs were as long as her namesake’s branches, and her steps so quick that his attention quickly shifted to catching up with her.
“What did you invite him for, Taown?” Tomar muttered under his breath, his adrenaline-fuelled good mood evaporating instantly. “I’ve never seen Brayandli eat with anyone except Willow outside of banquets, and even then, only in the morning. He almost never eats lunch in the hall. Could you be any more embarrassing?”
“I didn’t know that, did I?” Taowren shot back. “I was just being friendly. Do you know what ‘friendly’ means? Want me to explain it?”
“Shut up,” Tomar huffed and stomped faster so that he was walking beside Willow. Her eyes were distant, as if she was focusing on something impossibly far away.
Taowren trotted to catch up with them both in five quick steps. It was at this moment that Yan, who had been a dark figure by the entrance, passed them. His usually long and pointed face didn’t look as deviously handsome as it usually did, for Taowren’s fierce head-butt the day before had left him with a bruised nose and two dark circles under his eyes, eyes that were full of daggers as they ran over the three and landed on Taowren. Behind him were two others dressed in the Hanlen colours. Taowren cast them a quick glance, neither had a sword and both had bookish faces. They appeared to be more like attendants than guardsmen to this pale lordling, at least.
“Afternoon, Tomar.” Yan’s smile was full of knives, “And if it isn’t Willow? What a sight for sore eyes.” Willow didn’t seem to even notice the slender man’s presence, her eyes still focused on something in the distance. She did not return his greeting, although Tomar scowled darkly enough for both of them and made to lead all three of them away. They hadn’t gone more than two paces before they heard Yan’s voice addressing his companions with all the sweetness of adder’s venom. “Ah, see how that little Nightingale flees the field. Young Master Taown must be terribly scared of a fair fight with an armed opponent.”
Actually, if Taowren was honest, he was more than a little anxious that he would lose in a sword fight to Yan; the young man was never seen without the glinting well-polished sword at his waist. But Taowren couldn’t let him know that, could he?
“You’re the one with two black eyes!” Taowren barked out, spinning on his heel, “I’d be more concerned you wouldn’t be able to see well enough to fight and it wouldn’t count for much when I won.”
“Why don’t you put your sword where your mouth is, you insolent little—“ Yan started forward, but Tomar immediately placed himself between the two youths, grabbing Taowren by the shoulders and physically pushing him away.
“You’re the one who invited Willow to lunch, so stop antagonising people and let’s go!” Tomar hissed in Taowren’s ear as he all but frogmarched him towards the gates.
“Oh? What an adorable lunch date.” Yan’s voice purred through the air like acidic honey while Tomar dragged Taowren further and further away from him. “I’m not surprised that two such as yourselves would find solace in one another. Quite the perfect match for one another, aren’t you?”
“The Hells does that even mean?” Taowren couldn’t help but blurt over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you both the same? Two low-born bastards.” Yan was smiling with his hands behind his back. “Don’t you know what kind of person Young Master Willow’s mother is?”
“You know Willow is a woman, Yan. Don’t start spouting that nonsense again.” Taowren looked up at his cousin, noticing the rigidity in his jaw and that familiar vein pulsing on his temple. Tomar might be better than Taowren at avoiding fights, but it wasn’t by much. Taowren knew he particularly didn’t like it when people gossiped or made false statements about others, regardless how petty (or objectively hilarious) that statement was. But Willow hadn’t even involved herself in the boys’ bickering, so why was it that she was being targeted? “Come on Taown, let’s go. Ignore him.”
“You’re so frigid Tomar, I don’t know that you’d know a naked woman from a naked man if they both stood in front of you.” Yan’s grin was malicious. Taowren felt a particularly sharp stab of dislike rising in his chest. Something about that smile was too cruel, too knowing.
“You sure you’re not a woman? Gossiping here like a thirteen-year-old girl! And that eyeshadow I gave you is so fetching, after all. Please call for me any time you want it reapplied!” Taowren took a moment to enjoy Yan’s shocked expression, and then, uncharacteristically, did the sensible thing. He spun on a sandalled heel and ran to catch up with Willow, who seemed to have completely ignored the entire interaction and made her way through the moon gate without them.
It took a couple of minutes for Taowren and Tomar to reach her, and when they did they could see that she was almost out of breath.
“When Yan talks to you,” Willow breathed out quietly, “I suggest you just walk away.”
“But he was insulting you,” Taowren burst out, “for absolutely no reason!”
“Yan has always seen me as some kind of rival for Brayandli’s attention. He has been trying to cause a rift between us for years. Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf.” Willow shook her head, “Some people are cruel for the sake of being cruel, and there is no reasoning with them.” Her pale lips pinched in consternation. “Young Master Yan particularly likes to pull the wings off of butterflies. Do not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.”
Tomar glanced back in the direction they had come, frustration warring with guilt on his face. “You’re… She’s right, Taowren, you have to learn when to let things go.”
“I know you mean well, Taown, but Yan especially doesn’t like you.” Willow closed her eyes and straightened, running her thin long fingers down the front of her robe as if to dispel any negative thoughts. “And the more you let him antagonise you, the more that boy will want to see how far he can push you. Trust me when I say it is not worth you time engaging with him; he will always find a way to make situations worse and twist the blame onto others.”
“Yan has always been spoiled, and a bully.” Tomar agreed, then shook his head. “Let’s forget about him. I’m starving.”
Taowren frowned and followed behind the pair, thinking it rather unfair that every time Yan provoked him, it was still somehow Taowren who ended up getting lectured.
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